


Show Me How You Text

by Kitmistry



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Attempt at Humor, Co-workers, Dirty Talk, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Porn With Plot, Quarantine, Quarantine and Chill, Sexting, Zoom Meetings, two-person love triangle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:47:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24804142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitmistry/pseuds/Kitmistry
Summary: When the entire world goes into lockdown, Dean is stranded in a foreign country with the most annoying person ever, AKA Cas Novak. Between preparing for the biggest presentation of his career and dealing with his loneliness, Dean needs a break. Something fun to get his mind off things. Enter AngelofThursday: the hot guy Dean meets on a dating app.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 60
Kudos: 368
Collections: ProfoundBond Exchange: Quarantine & Chill





	Show Me How You Text

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KatG](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatG/gifts).



> This story is a gift for [ KatG ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatG/pseuds/KatG) as part of the PB Discord's gift exchange. This is my first time participating, and I was really excited for the theme "Quarantine and Chill". Although this is a fun, light-hearted story (really it's mostly smut and Dean being an idiot) and there are no mentions of the virus, it is set in the pandemic so please take that into consideration for your own mental health before reading. 
> 
> A huge thank you to [ Zahlibeth ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zahlibeth) and [miriad ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miriad) ([ tumblr ](https://tallgirlshaveshortmemories.tumblr.com/))for being my betas <3

_ I’m an Aquarius, I enjoy sunsets, long walks on the beach, and frisky men and women.  _

Dean chews on his bottom lip while he re-reads what he’s written. Will people get he’s being sarcastic? Sometimes it’s hard to tell through text. Yeah, it’s probably best to play it safe. 

He deletes everything, before staring at the empty box on his screen. 

Jesus Christ, this is just a stupid dating app. It’s not supposed to be that hard to come up with something about himself. Okay, he’s definitely overthinking this. It’s not like he’s looking for his future spouse, he’s only looking for some fun.

Wait. Shit. That’s it!

_ Equal opportunity kind of guy. Looking for some casual fun.  _

There. That looks good. Now to choose a profile picture. 

He scrolls through the photos on his phone, but none of them seem right. That one is too professional, that one is with Charlie, this one is  _ really _ not his best moment. 

“And we’ll be giving an extension on that deadline, so—”

Maybe he should just go for one without his face. Yeah, that seems like a good choice. It’s not like he’ll actually be meeting anyone. Everything will happen online. 

“Winchester, are you paying attention?”

Speaking of everything happening online...

“Yeah. Very important deadline. Got that,” Dean says without looking up from his phone. 

He still can’t believe he’s forced to work from his laptop when he’s literally stranded in a foreign country and quarantined in a hotel room, but Adler believes this whole pandemic thing is bullshit, and he’s not going to lose Sandover millions by being  _ soft  _ on his employees. 

His words, not Dean’s.

Guy’s a bit of an asshole. Seeing him through a screen instead of live barely makes him more bearable, so Dean decided to use his precious time doing something more productive. Like finding someone to hook up with. No reason not to have fun just because he can’t go outside his door.

“Winchester!” Adler roars again, and Dean glances up this time. 

He’s almost done anyway. He’s answered all the questions, came up with a username ( _ Impala67 _ , didn’t need more than a second to choose), filled all the boxes, and found a photo of him washing the Impala in some denim shorts that Charlie took as a joke but surprisingly shows off his best assets (which is not his face, and Dean has a pretty handsome face, if he says so himself). Probably time to get back to work.

“As I was saying,” Adler begins, shooting daggers through the screen at Dean. He goes on about all the boring details that he could have sent in an email that took ten minutes to read, except he’s a sadistic bastard, who enjoys personally torturing his employees.

The rest of the people on the zoom meeting seem equally as bored as Dean. Except Cas Novak.

No, back-straight, stick-in-the-ass Cas has always been the teacher’s pet, and once again doesn’t lose the opportunity to rub it in how much better and efficient he is than everyone else. Dean would hate him, if he didn’t have to (begrudgingly) admit that the guy is good at what he does. Dude knows his numbers. If Dean didn’t work for the marketing department, he might have been threatened by him, but as it is, he’s secure knowing that Cas is two floors below him, in finance. 

Or he was. 

Because currently, he is in the room next door. Who else would Dean be stuck with out here if not Cas, right? Just his luck. As if having to go on a business trip with the dude wasn’t enough, they had to get stuck here, too. 

Cas is the only person Dean has seen  _ in-person _ in the last week or so, since the occupants of the other rooms don’t seem to like hanging out at their balconies, and the hotel staff avoids any face to face interaction. Cas on the other hand spends any time he’s not working at his balcony, separated from Dean’s only by a piece of frosted glass. Dean much prefers watching Netflix with the city in the background than a bland wall, so…. They see each other  _ a lot. _

It’s not strictly a bad thing. Cas is easy on the eyes. Very easy on the eyes. He also does home workout videos, and sometimes he works out on the balcony. Now, Dean may not necessarily like the dude, but he can appreciate a good, muscular, sweat-slick body. 

Oh yeah, Cas is definitely easy on the eyes. And he does a lot of push ups. Dean would bet he’s strong. Probably strong enough to pin Dean to the bed and—

There’s loud knocking on his balcony door (what the fuck?) and Dean blinks back to the present. Adler is red faced and cursing at him for zoning out—again—his colleagues look mildly amused, and Cas is standing right outside Dean’s room, banging on his balcony door.

What the— 

Did he jump over the glass half-wall?

“Open up,” Cas says, knocking on the door hard enough to make it rattle on its hinges.

“Alright, alright! I’m coming, stop trying to demolish the fucking hotel.” Dean throws the door open, narrowing his eyes at Castiel. “What?”

His anger clearly misses its mark, for Cas just quirks his head to the side, eyes trailing down Dean’s body instead of answering the question. An amused smile plays at the corner of his lips, and he raises an eyebrow. “Oh! So you’re one of  _ those _ .”

“One of…” Dean looks down at himself, and shit, he forgot about  _ that. _ From the waist up, he’s picture perfect. Hair on point, shirt wrinkle-free and clean, tie on. From the waist down… he’s wearing his batman boxers. And his socks. And nothing else.

“Well, it’s not like anyone is going to see,” he says, trying to force Cas’ stupid smile to evaporate on sheer willpower and glaring alone. It has the opposite effect.

“Right,” Cas chuckles. He fucking chuckles. First time Dean has seen the guy so much as crack a smile and it’s at Dean’s boxers. 

At least it’s a nice smile.

“We all saw!” someone calls from his laptop, and Dean face palms. 

Perfect. Exactly what he needed right now.

Dean meets Cas’ gaze steadily, ignoring the way his whole face feels several degrees hotter. “What do you want, Novak?”

“You weren’t answering Adler. I had to get your attention somehow.” Cas shrugs, like jumping over a balcony wall is the most natural thing to do in a situation like that. Maybe it is in this new, quarantined reality of theirs.

“Yeah, well, you got my attention now, so please go back to your room. We gotta social distance and stuff. I’ll feel much safer with six feet and an actual wall between us.”

“If you insist.” 

Cas hoists himself up and over the wall in one smooth motion, muscles flexing under his dress-shirt, ass on display for two very long (and also frustratingly short) seconds, and then he’s gone. 

“Winchester, get back here!” Adler bellows. “I’m not done with you! You do realise this whole meeting is for  _ your _ benefit? This is  _ your _ project.”

“Technically,” Dean says, taking his seat again, not even bothering to hide his boxers, “this is Novak’s project, too.”

“Novak doesn’t daydream during his briefing,” Adler points out, and yeah, he’s got Dean there.

Except Dean is more than capable of closing the deal he was sent here to close, even considering that he won’t make it into that conference room to charm millions out of the pockets of some foreign investors. He’ll still be able to do it through a video call or something,  _ if _ Adler shows a little faith in him. Cas may be good with numbers, but Dean is good with people, and together they are a formidable force. It’s why they were sent here together in the first place. They only have to make a few adjustments to their presentation, change a couple of things here and there, and the deal is as good as theirs already.

Adler clearly disagrees.

Dean sighs and resigns himself to another hour listening to the man rant.

* * *

By the time Dean’s done with work it’s getting dark outside. Dinner’s s left outside his door, as always, and he eats it while he answers some emails, before trying to get in touch with all the vendors for Sam and Eileen’s wedding. 

Planning a wedding during a pandemic is not easy work, and though Dean is only the best man, he’s almost as stressed as Sam and Eileen themselves about the whole thing. So far their wedding hasn’t been cancelled, but the more time they spend in quarantine, the more likely it is they’ll have to change the date, lose a lot of money, and start planning the wedding all over again.

Speaking to them on Skype is nice, though. It’s almost normal in a way, except Dean feels twice as lonely when he bids both of them goodnight and is left with the emptiness of his room, the distant sound of Cas’ TV through the wall. 

Dean is a pack animal. He thrives on human contact, whether that’s spending time with his family or hooking up with a stranger for the night. Being stuck in a hotel room without any actual contact with anyone has almost driven him to his wits end. 

Hence, his dating app plan. 

Of course he knows he won’t be  _ physically  _ meeting someone. But just jerking off knowing someone else is touching their private parts, thinking about Dean, is an adequate substitute, all things considered. 

He sheds his clothes until he’s left with his boxers. He crawls into bed, fluffing his pillows, then props himself up against the headboard. 

Alright. It’s showtime.

He logs into the app and starts going through his options. Which… are not that many. There aren’t a lot of people available and, worst of all, most of their descriptions are not in English. After about half an hour of swiping left, he finds someone interesting.

The photo doesn’t show the dude’s face, only his body from the neck down, but Dean is  _ not  _ complaining. The dude is  _ hot!  _ Hard abs, wide shoulders, and  _ fuck, _ his thighs look so strong. A trail of dark hair starts at his navel before disappearing under his boxers. 

Dean’s mouth waters. 

_ Male looking for males,  _ the info under his name (AngelofThursday, which is so corny Dean thinks it’s kinda genius) says. 

Bingo!

And according to the app, the guy is about a mile away. Not that it matters since Dean can’t even leave his hotel room.

He swipes right and—

It’s a match! 

Heart beating like crazy, Dean taps on his screen furiously and sends the first message.

**Impala67:** Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?

Cheesy, he knows, but he thinks AngelofThursday won’t mind. After all, they’re both looking for the same thing.

**AngelofThursday:** What, because I’m an angel?   
**AngelofThursday:** That’s the best pick up line you could think of?

Dean grins at the answer. Angel clearly takes no bullshit. Dean’s growing to like him already.

**Impala67:** Needed an icebreaker.    
**Impala67:** Worked like a charm, didn’t it?

**AngelofThursday:** You’re lucky you have a great ass.    
**AngelofThursday:** Relying on your humor wouldn’t get you far in life.

Touché. Dean’s impressed. And intrigued. 

**Impala67:** There are other parts of me you might be interested in seeing.

**AngelofThursday:** I’m sure there are. Anything specific in mind?

Dean brushes a hand over his crotch. He’s still soft, but he’s been looking forward to this all day, and there’s a tingling low in his belly already. It won’t take much to get him going.

**Impala67** : I don’t want to overstep _.  _

Dean’s desperate but not an asshole. He needs a definite green light before he starts sending inappropriate pictures.

**AngelofThursday:** You’re not overstepping   
**AngelofThursday:** I’m asking you   
**AngelofThursday:** If you were here, what would we be doing right now?

**Impala67:** That depends. What are you wearing?

**AngelofThursday:** Wanna see?

Before Dean can even come up with an answer to send back, a picture arrives. All his blood rushes south, and, yeah. Instant hard-on. 

The fact that Angel is visibly hard in his sweatpants in the picture definitely helps. As does his naked torso. All hard muscles, tan skin. 

No face, though.

**AngelofThursday:** Your turn

Dean chuckles at himself. Well, if Angel insists, who is he to say no? 

There’s a full-body mirror on the bathroom door, and he poses in front of it, careful to keep his face out of the frame. Maybe he flexes a little, but only because he’s suddenly self-conscious of the way his lower belly has gotten soft after so many years of greasy food and no other exercise than working on his car. He takes a couple of pictures first, before settling on one where the head of his dick is peeking out from the waistband. 

He presses send before the nerves prickling across his fingers can stop him. 

The answer is almost instant.

**AngelofThursday:** Gorgeous

Dean flushes to his hair roots like he’s some kind of schoolgirl.

**Impala67:** Like what you see?

**AngelofThursday:** Very much. The things I’d do to you   
**AngelofThursday:** Are you hard for me?

**Impala67:** Oh baby you have no idea   
**Impala67:** I’ve been hard for you since the moment I saw your picture. It’s been so hard not to touch myself thinking of you

Dean hops back into bed, ready to vibrate out of his skin. He didn’t mean to send that last message but he can’t take it back now. His stomach does a nervous dance but Angel’s’ next answer makes his blood simmer and his ears ring in all the right ways.

**AngelofThursday:** Do it now   
**AngelofThursday:** Touch yourself for me   
**AngelofThursday:** Imagine I’m there, running my hands along your thighs   
**AngelofThursday:** Feel my fingers dip into your boxers    
**AngelofThursday:** You thrust up but I’m only teasing   
**AngelofThursday:** I like to make you wait, watch you anticipate it, hear you beg me for it

Dean presses his palm down on his erection before moving his hand lower to massage his balls. Even touching himself over his boxers makes him whimper, and he rocks up to chase the pressure. Angel has a unique talent for dirty talk.

**Impala67:** God, please touch me   
**Impala67:** I really need you to touch me

**AngelofThursday:** What do you want me to do?   
**AngelofThursday:** I can pull you out of your boxers and jack you slowly. Take you apart with my hands and watch you squirm and ask for more   
**AngelofThursday:** Would you like that?

**Impala67:** Yeah, I’d like that

Dean would like that very much. Dean  _ wants  _ that very much

**AngelofThursday:** Show me

Angel demands, and Dean wouldn’t dream of refusing. He pushes his boxers down so that the elastic digs under his balls, stinging just right, then wraps a hand around his erection and fucks up into his fist, rubs his thumb over the tip of his cock, smearing the precome that licks out of the slit.

It’s all captured in a twenty second video, with his breathing heavy and raspy in the background.

Instead of a text, Dean receives a video in return.

In the video Angel has already shed his clothes. He’s standing, camera pointing down at his cock, hard and thick and uncut, and Jesus Christ, Dean has never wanted something in his mouth so much. 

Angel twists his wrist as he jerks himself, as the rosy tip of his dick disappears inside his fist and reappears, as he runs a thumb over a thick vein. 

**Impala67:** If we were together I’d be on my knees already

**AngelofThursday:** Yeah? I bet you’d look gorgeous on your knees   
**AngelofThursday:** Lips wrapped around my cock, nose pressing against my groin

Dean starts jerking himself faster as he imagines taking Angel’s dick in his mouth, imagines the musky taste, the velvet feel of it against his tongue, how he’d choke on it and wouldn’t even care. 

**AngelofThursday:** Your mouth is so hot baby   
**AngelofThursday:** So hot and wet   
**AngelofThursday:** So perfect

**Impala67:** I want to taste you   
**Impala67:** I want to taste all of you. I want to suck your balls into my mouth, trace your dick with my tongue, suck on your head while you pull out and then thrust back in   
**Impala67:** I want to swallow you down and when I can’t breathe anymore I want you to grab my hair and fuck my face

**AngelofThursday:** So good   
**AngelofThursday:** So good for me   
**AngelofThursday:** I bet you could take my cock so deep into your throat I could come just by watching you but I want to savor this, I want to make you feel good   
**AngelofThursday:** Tell me what feels good

Dean’s breathing is labored. His whole body is burning up, and he can imagine it so clearly, a faceless man with Angel’s body using his mouth, tagging at his hair, forcing Dean to look up to him through teary eyes. 

**Impala67:** You feel good   
**Impala67:** You feel so good inside of me   
**Impala67:** I want you to fuck me

**AngelofThursday:** I will fuck you

Angel promises, and through the feverish want that runs through Dean’s veins, Dean believes him. Despite being a mile apart and destined to never meet, he believes with absolute certainty that Angel will make good on his promise. 

**AngelofThursday:** I’ll start by taking you into my mouth   
**AngelofThursday:** A distraction, while I push my fingers inside you and stretch you   
**AngelofThursday:** Do you like that? Do you like it when I finger you?

**Impala67:** It burns but it burns so good

If Dean had half a brain cell left he’d probably find the lube he keeps stashed in his nightstand and actually finger himself. As it is, he picks up the pace, works himself until he’s almost at the edge before stopping, savoring the moment, feeling the way his muscles coil with anticipation, scream for release. But he won’t give in. Not yet. 

**Impala67:** More   
**Impala67:** I need more   
**Impala67:** I need you to get your cock into me right now

**AngelofThursday:** When you beg me like that I can’t say no   
**AngelofThursday:** I’ll push into you in one long motion   
**AngelofThursday:** let you feel the head drag inside you, stretch your hole while I pull out to thrust back inside   
**AngelofThursday:** I’ll fuck you slow and hard until all you can think about is me   
**AngelofThursday:** until all you can do is scream my name

Dean can’t answer that. He just can’t put the words one after the other and create a sentence that both makes sense and describes how Angel has set him on fire and how tension is curling tight and urgent low in his belly, how his toes are curling into the sheets, how his fist is nowhere near enough compared to all the things his brain conjures in response to Angel’s words. 

Panting and holding onto the edge by his teeth, he presses the record button. He jerks himself furiously, the tension inside him lengthening, stretching, ready to snap, and he thinks of Angel above him, around him, inside him. 

Thinks of the way hip bones would dig into the back of his thighs with every thrust. 

Thinks of fingers pressing bruises into his skin and a mouth biting down on his shoulder, and fireworks explode behind his eyelids. 

He keeps thrusting into his fist through his orgasm, until it’s too uncomfortable to keep going. He shakes and gasps and curses and comes down from his high to find a sticky mess all over his stomach. 

Through the post-orgasm haziness he manages to coordinate his fingers to send the video, and then he slides down the bed, muscles loose and jelly-like. That was fast. Almost embarrassingly fast. But Dean’s been waiting for something like this for  _ days. _ And fuck it was good. It was like Angel knew exactly what to tell him to get him going. 

His phone pings with a notification, and Dean pulls himself out of his stupor long enough to check the message. Looking at the new picture, his dick gives a half hearted twitch. 

Angel has his dick still in hand, but come is splattered over his abs. The instinct to reach through the screen and lick it all before snowballing the dude is strong. It’s also impossible.

So Dean settles for:

**Impala67:** Fuck, if only I was a little younger

**AngelofThursday:** All for you and that perfect ass

Dean can imagine the words whispered into his ear. 

**AngelofThursday:** I’m sorry to say that after seeing that video you sent I didn’t have the mind to record one, too. Things escalated quickly

**Impala67:** I’m glad they did

Dean chews on his lips as he considers this.

**Impala67:** And you?

**AngelofThursday:** I wanted to savor this a bit longer, but I’m not complaining   
**AngelofThursday:** This was so much better than I had expected when I signed up for this app

**Impala67:** Dude, same   
**Impala67:** We should do this again

Wait, is that too forward? Maybe Angel didn’t expect Dean to say that or maybe he’s not interested in repeating this. Doubts gnaw at him until almost all of the tingling satisfaction has drained away to be replaced by nerves. 

Angel’s reply quickly makes him relax again.

**AngelofThursday:** Tomorrow same time perhaps?   
**AngelofThursday:** I work all day and nights are the only time I have to myself

**Impala67:** Yeah, I get that   
**Impala67:** My situation is similar

**AngelofThursday:** So tomorrow?

**Impala67:** It’s a date!

Dean feels heat color his cheeks.

**Impala67:** Or you know whatever

An emoji sticking its tongue out arrives instead of an answer. So far Angel hasn’t been scared away by Dean’s weird ways of flirting with men. A miracle really. 

**AngelofThursday:** Text me when you’re free

Dean struggles with himself for a few seconds. Sending goodnight feels weird, but so does not sending anything. In the end he sends a kissing face emoji and turns his phone off before he’s tempted to send anything else.

Gotta play it cool.

He rolls over, knowing that he’ll sleep far better tonight than any other night he’s spent in this hotel. That only makes him look forward to their next text-date (except it’s not a date) even more. 

* * *

Adler calls them early in the morning to let them know that their meeting with their foreign investors has been arranged for the next day on zoom, so Dean finds himself relocating to his balcony. That way he and Cas can at least talk while working and avoid the awkward video call where they’re pretending to be looking at the other except they’re really looking at themselves on the small screen. 

Plus it’s more efficient to pass papers and notes to each other over the half-wall separating them than keep sending files back and forth. 

Cas is not bad to work with. He’s quick and efficient and he seems to anticipate what Dean needs from him even before Dean realizes it. Between the two of them working non-stop they have their final presentation ready in a matter of hours, and they even manage to squeeze in a dress rehearsal of what they’re going to say. Dean tests his one-liners on Cas, who throws witty answers right back at him, and by the time they’re done, Dean is almost having fun. And he’s also one hundred percent sure they’re going to kill it!

So when Cas excuses himself to get a shower and change clothes to get out of the mindset of work, Dean figures they deserve something nice. 

About an hour later someone knocks first on Cas’ door, then Dean’s. 

Dean retrieves the burgers he ordered and paid with his credit card online from where someone from the hotel staff has left them in front of his door, and returns back to the balcony.

Cas is already waiting for him there, head poking over the half-wall, brow creased. “You got me burgers?”

“You’re welcome,” Dean says, pushing the table against the wall. “There’s beer in the mini fridge. Grab one and join me for dinner.”

Castiel stares at him for a long moment, eyes wide like he’s never seen Dean before. Then he springs into action. A couple of minutes later, they’re standing side by side (except for the half-wall between them, of course), mouthwatering burgers in front of them as they gaze out at the city skyline, illuminated by the sunset. 

Dean lifts his beer over the half-wall and tilts it in Cas’ direction in a toast. “I know it’s a little early to celebrate, but I think the deal is as good as closed.”

“I’ll have to agree with you.” Cas mirrors Dean’s gesture with his own bottle, a smile playing at his lips. “And once it’s official, Adler will owe us a big bonus and a week of vacation at the very least.”

“I’ll take a week of not seeing his face over any amount of money,” Dean says and takes a sip of his beer. 

Through the half-wall, he can see the outline of Castiel’s shoulders shaking as he laughs. “God, he’s an asshole isn’t he?”

Dean does a double take. Castiel’s expression is unreadable behind the frosted glass wall, but his posture is relaxed, one leg crossed over his other knee. 

“You just called Adler an asshole? _You._ Cas Novak. The ultimate kiss-ass?”

Dean claps a hand over his mouth immediately but it’s too late. That last sentence was supposed to be a thought only, but it makes it out along with the rest of the word-vomit that Dean couldn’t stop. His cheeks burn hot and bright, and he thanks any god listening for the frosted glass hiding him. 

Surprisingly, Cas bursts out laughing. A rich, loud thing that leaves Dean warm for a completely different reason than his embarrassment.

“Ah, you’d think that, wouldn’t you? I guess Mr. Bad-boy-of-the-company doesn’t know what being conciliatory means.”

Dean quirks an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m a bad boy?”

“You have a bit of a reputation,” Cas says. “As do I, I guess. Though being Adler’s pet doesn’t make me very popular.”

Dean chuckles at that. “And yet you recently got a promotion. Who’s laughing now?"

“Yeah, that was nice,” Cas admits, amusement laced through his voice. “Though if I hadn’t gotten that promotion I wouldn’t be stuck here right now, so I’m not sure what to think of my luck.”

Dean tilts his head to the side, considering that. He watches Cas through the glass, the outline of him betraying nothing of his emotions. “You got someone waiting for you back home?”

“My cat,” Cas says dryly, and Dean can’t suppress a snort. “I’m serious, she probably misses me terribly. My friend Meg has been looking after her, and she’s not exactly a cat person, so I don’t want to burden her more than I have to.”

“It’s not like you have a choice.”

“That doesn’t stop me from worrying.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” 

Dean hums, letting the silence stretch comfortably between them as they both eat their burgers. He washes it down with the beer, eyes watching the ever changing colors of the sky as they shift from warm oranges and bright reds to muted pink and cool blues. The night settles cool and silent over them, in complete contrast to the first night Dean spent in this city. Back then it was still bustling with life and lights, cars racing through the busy streets and people bar-hopping after office hours were over. 

He kind of prefers it like this. He likes the quiet. He likes that he can see the stars for a change. 

“This is kinda nice, isn’t it,” he says conversationally, not even realising that his words can easily misinterpreted. What with the whole pandemic going on and everything.

Cas, though, seems to get it. “Yeah, it is. I didn’t know how much I needed something like this. Thank you. For the burgers _and_ the company.”

“Hey, just because we’re quarantined doesn’t mean we can’t have a good time,” Dean says softly. He likes the company, too. The atmosphere between them has settled into something comfortable, almost intimate—or as intimate as things can get when you can’t see or touch the other properly—and it fills a void inside Dean that has been festering for too long now. 

But it’s not real, he knows. He and Cas have never spoken more than a few words to each other before the quarantine forced them together. Dean didn’t even like the guy until pretty much this moment. This is only a fluke.

He drains his beer and checks the time on his phone. It’s almost time for his date with Angel. That may not be real either, but at least the lines are clear. No frosted glass to confuse Dean. 

“So, I think I’m gonna hit the sack.” Dean pushes his chair back as he gets up and starts cleaning the table. 

“It’s getting kind of late,” Cas agrees. He stands up, too, so that his messy hair pokes over the half-wall, and he stretches. He groans as he does that, a sound that sends a shiver down Dean’s spine and goes straight to his dick, which twitches with interest. 

Dean wills himself to calm down. He’ll get his release soon enough. 

“See you tomorrow, Cas,” he says without thinking. 

He doesn’t even realize he didn’t call him ‘Novak’ until Cas says, “Goodnight, Dean. I’ll see you for the meeting tomorrow.”

Dean doesn’t stop to ponder how his name sounds in Cas’ mouth—safe and warm. He already has enough trouble with the way the guy looks, he doesn’t need any more blurred lines.

* * *

Dean watches the video of him jerking off fast and desperate through half-lidded eyes. He’s slowed down now, intent to draw this out as long as possible, but for the purposes of the video he needed to put on a show. He needs to show Angel just what that picture of his flushed, gorgeous cock does to Dean.

**AngelofThursday:** Don’t stop   
**AngelofThursday:** Imagine my mouth on you   
**AngelofThursday:** my lips around you   
**AngelofThursday:** Imagine me taking you all the way deep inside my throat

**Impala67:** Fuck Angel   
**Impala67:** I want you to finger me open too   
**Impala67:** stretch me with your thick fingers while you swallow me down   
**Impala67:** Make me scream your name

**AngelofThursday:** Will you pretend I’m there right now doing just that?   
**AngelofThursday:** Will you let me see you fucking yourself on your fingers?

Dean’s cock twitches in his fist. Just the thought of doing that while Angel watches is nearly enough to send him over the edge, but he has to keep his cool. He can’t come yet. It’s too early. 

He props his phone on his nightstand and turns around, ass presented for the camera. He pours lube on his fingers, listening to the sound of the countdown ending as his phone starts recording. 

With his knees planted on the mattress, legs open wide, he trails a lubed finger between his ass cheeks, rubbing over his hole. He wants to savor this, wants to draw this out like he knows Angel would do for him, teasing him relentlessly until Dean was begging for his cock, his fingers, anything to scratch that deep-rooted itch that can only be satisfied when he’s split open and filled. But he knows he can only send minute-long videos. He pushes a finger inside, a soft groan falling from his lips, and he quickly adds a second, working himself open. He changes the angle and his finger brushes over that spot inside him that makes him see stars. Had it not been for the thin wall between his room and Cas’, he’d already be on pornographic levels of moaning. 

He sends the close-up video with shaky fingers, before he flops down on the bed again, legs spread as he keeps fingering himself with one hand, while with the other he fucks his fist. He stops only when his screen lights up with a new text.

**AngelofThursday:** Shit look at you   
**AngelofThursday:** So beautiful   
**AngelofThursday:** Taking those fingers so easily for me   
**AngelofThursday:** I bet you’d let me push into you in one go   
**AngelofThursday:** let me bury my thick cock inside you

The few seconds it takes to type a reply feel like an eternity. An eternity during which Dean is burning, feverish and delirious and empty, and he knows his fingers are nowhere near enough, but he doesn’t have a choice.

**Impala67:** Fuck me hard and fast  
**Impala67:** fuck me until I can’t walk properly anymore

**AngelofThursday:** mmmm I will   
**AngelofThursday:** I’ll fuck you so good baby and then I’ll come inside you, fill you up with my come until you’re dripping   
**AngelofThursday:** would you like that?

**Impala67:** fuck yes   
**Impala67:** I want to feel you coming inside me

Dean’s blood is boiling. His heartbeat is beating loudly inside his ears and every new text that arrives with another filthy promise makes tension coil tighter low in his belly. 

He imagines Angel whispering right next to his ear all the ways he’s going to fuck him into the mattress. It’s a deep gravelly voice that makes his toes curl. He thinks of a solid body pressed behind him, he thinks of the sound of skin hitting skin, he thinks of someone else’s hand reaching to jerk him off. 

Kisses sliding down his spine. Strong arms pinning him down, dark hair and the faintest hint of blue around blown pupils. 

Cas fucking into him fast and hard, body slick with sweat, low curses falling from his lips, and Dean comes hard all over his stomach.

Instead of slowing down, his pulse shoots straight through the ceiling. 

What the fuck? Did he just jerk off to Cas Novak? Not that he hasn’t thought about it before, but it’s one thing to  _ consider  _ it and an entirely different thing to fantasize about the dude while sexting with someone else.

Even the video of Angel shooting his load all over himself is not enough to stop Dean's head from spinning.

Okay. Okay. Everything's going to be fine. Dean's just a bit confused. Cas is hot. That's objective. He's also the only other person Dean has seen or touched in  _ days _ , it's only natural that his brain would choose Cas' face. 

Yeah, they'll go back home once this crazy situation is over and everything will go back to normal. They'll see each other in the elevator and Dean will laugh at himself. Him and Cas? Yeah, right. Like that would ever happen. Pfff, no way. It's not like Dean will think about stopping the elevator and dropping to his knees with Cas' fingers tangled through his hair and—

Shit. Dean may be a bit screwed. 

His phone vibrates against his thigh for the tenth time. A long string of messages are waiting for him, first lewd promises, then just Angel checking in on him and asking him where he went.

Still feeling a little numb, Dean types a quick reply, letting Angel know he's fine.

**AngelofThursday:** You had me worried   
**AngelofThursday:** Is everything okay? It's a difficult thing we're going through. If you need someone to talk to, I'm here.

Dean blinks. 

**Impala67:** Nah dude I'm fine   
**Impala67:** You're not my therapist, there's no need to burden you

**AngelofThursday:** It's no burden. We just had cyber sex, I think that makes us sort of friends

Except it doesn't. It makes them less than acquaintances. But Dean can't help but snort. Who even uses the term ‘cyber sex’ any more? It's adorable enough that Dean gives in.

He's not stupid enough to share any real  _ traceable  _ details about himself, but the gist of things is enough—feeling lonely while he's away from his family, being stuck in the same stupid room, running out of things to do with himself when he's not working. He's tired and homesick.

And so is Angel.

He tells Dean how hard it is to be spending the quarantine alone while everyone he knows is away. He tells Dean how he misses his yoga classes and his daily runs—and that explains that  _ body _ —before telling Dean how stressed he is with work. 

**AngelofThursday:** My people skills are rusty   
**AngelofThursday:** And video calls are somehow worse than actually meeting them

**Impala67:** I totally get it. Video conferences are so boring!

Dean and Angel talk and talk and complain about everyone and everything. It's cathartic. It's freeing. Before Dean knows it, it's well past midnight, and he has less than six hours to sleep before he has to get up and get ready for his meeting.

He bids Angel goodnight but not before he arranges another date for the next night. If things go well he deserves some fun and if they don't, he needs the distraction. Besides, Angel is kind of awesome. Dean would consider asking him on a real honest-to-god date had he not known long distance almost never works. And that Angel is probably not looking for a relationship.

Well, at least Dean'll have gotten some amazing memories out of this. 

* * *

Dean is brimming with excitement. Holy fuck they nailed it. They blew the investors’ minds away, snatched their wigs and all that fancy shit young people say these days. They (metaphorically) shook hands on it with their investors and closed the deal. 

Cas is practically bouncing behind the frosted glass, which, incidentally, is the only thing stopping Dean from hugging the breath out of him. So maybe it's for the best Dean can't reach him. Just because Dean is confused doesn't mean Cas has to suffer.

"Call Adler," Cas says, stupid, heart-stopping grin splitting his face so wide Dean wonders if his cheeks hurt.

Dean's cheeks certainly do. "Gotta spoil the mood, don't ya?" he teases, though he's already waiting for their boss to answer.

"I expect good news." Adler has the same sour expression and irritating raised eyebrow he always does. 

For once, Dean's first instinct isn't to hit him.

"It's a deal!" Dean announces, angling himself to the side so that Cas' mop of hair is also visible. "We'll be signing the contract within the week."

And hopefully get some free time to figure out a way to book a flight back to the US finally, Dean adds internally. Relief flows through him steadily, not because he ever doubted himself and Cas, but because he's finally free of the work stress. Maybe now he can actually deal with the pandemic stress like a normal person.

"Good, good," Adler hums distracted. "I'll have our lawyers write a draft for them to review. I'm sure you'll have no problem dealing with all the paperwork they'll need."

Dean's smile freezes. "What?"

Adler tilts his head from side to side, mouth pursed in consideration. "How about you send them everything they need by tomorrow, huh? We can't waste any time."

Dean tries to swallow past his tight throat. "Sir…"

"Alright then. Thank you for your hard work, Winchester, Novak. I'll see you tomorrow to talk about your next project."

"Next project," Dean mutters at the already dark screen. He turns to find Cas gaping at him. "Is he serious?"

"I'm afraid he is," Cas says, on a sigh. 

"It's not our job to deal with lawyers," Dean says, trying to find a smidge of reason in this situation. "We do our presentation, charm the pants off people then shake hands. What happens after is not our responsibility. I barely know what papers to send to our legal department for fuck's sake."

"I'm somewhat familiar with the procedure," Cas says. "Don't worry, I'll take care of this. You should get some rest."

Dean's mouth drops to hang on for dear life from its hinges. "You'll… you'd do that?"

Cas shrugs, blue eyes peering at Dean over the half-wall. "It's a lot of emailing and a lot of calling people. There's no need for both of us to get involved. Besides, you did all the heavy lifting in the past few days preparing for our presentation, it's only right you get a break."

There has to be some trap here. No one is  _ that _ nice. Dealing with all the paperwork means Cas will probably have to work until midnight to have everything ready for Adler by tomorrow morning. So what's the catch? 

Dean stares at Cas, who meets his gaze straight on, face open and honest.

"I'd appreciate that actually. Thanks, dude." A hand rubbing the back of his neck, Dean gives Cas a small smile. 

"It's no problem. I'm sure you have more obligations to deal with, while I do nothing else but do pilates on the floor. You're helping your brother plan his wedding, aren't you?"

"I am. How did you know?" Dean doesn't remember mentioning anything.

Cas cocks his head to the side. "I can hear you talking with vendors through the wall sometimes. I swear I wasn't eavesdropping though," he adds quickly.

There's no sign on his face that betrays he's heard Dean do anything else—like 'cyber sex' for example—no matter how hard Dean squints at him. Chances are, Dean's secret is safe.

"Yeah, it'll probably be postponed. And no worries. The walls here are paper thin." Dean worries his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to make this slightly less awkward. "Seriously man, I owe you one."

The instinct to say  _ 'maybe I could take you out for dinner some time'  _ is strong but he stomps is down. It's not like that. 

Cas, as if to drive Dean's thought home, waves Dean away. "Nonsense. It's what anyone would do."

Right, anyone. A colleague, an acquaintance. Because that's what they are.

* * *

Okay, so  _ maybe _ things with his kind-of, possible, who-is-he-trying-to-fool crush on Cas are not going well. He’s got it bad. And he doesn’t have a chance with Cas. But Dean's not one to wallow in self-pity. (For long.)

_ He _ has a date tonight after all. With Angel. Faceless, nameless hottie who somehow makes Dean squirm with a single emoji. Now that takes some skill, no matter what the dude says about his  _ 'people skills'. _

Is it weird that Dean can imagine Cas saying something like that followed by finger quotes? 

Yeah, it probably is. He is possibly pining. Which is ridiculous because he is Dean Winchester and he. Does. Not. Pine. Period!

Dean shakes his head. Alright. Whooo. Time to get his head back in the game! This is not about Cas. This is about Dean getting his reward for closing the deal. This is about sex.

Alright, beast mode! He can do this. He can do this.

Dean sends the first text. It's just a generic greeting, a hint of a flirty tease, but it's the perfect opening for him to ask next:

**Impala67:** So i was thinking  
**Impala67:** We've been exchanging videos and photos for two days now, we could maybe try a video call?  
**Impala67:** If that's something you'd be interested in.

The seconds tick by torturously. This is a big step when they've never seen more than each other's junks, Dean knows that. He also knows that this might be the only way he celebrates and dammit he's going to aim for the stars. Hopefully even if Angel turns him down he'll still be up for some good, old-fashioned sexting. Fingers crossed.

When the three little dots next to Angel's profile picture stop dancing, Dean's stomach almost drops to the ground. Only for his heart to soar right after, at the answer.

**AngelofThursday:** I thought you'd never ask

Not missing a beat, Dean scrambles off the bed, and with one last guilty look in the direction of Cas' room, he retreats into the bathroom, which doesn't share a wall with Cas. It's a strategic decision. One Dean has been thinking about since this morning. That's about… ten hours? Sounds about right.

Nerve endings tingling with anticipation, Dean steps out of his underwear—the only thing he was wearing. Call him an optimist but he likes to skip the entree and go straight for the main course. He props his phone on the counter and hits the call button.

The video call is answered almost immediately, and for a very confusing moment, Dean stares at a bathroom identical to the one he's standing in currently. Before his mind has the time to put two and two together, Angel comes into view, in all his naked, hard glory, and Dean sees the exact same expression he can feel painted across his face, mirrored in Cas. Mainly it's shock and disbelief.

Angel— _ Cas _ —scrambles forward and ends the call.

Dean stares at his phone in disbelief. His mind is still reeling. Angel is Cas. Cas is Angel. He knows what Cas' dick looks like. He's heard the way Cas groans when he comes. He's been having sex with Cas for two days already!

Holy fucking shit!

Either this is his worst nightmare or a dream he doesn't want to wake up from. Of course if this is a dream then Cas should magically appear in Dean's bed any second now. 

Dean checks. His bed remains Cas-free. 

Considering he's not standing in front of the entirety of Sandover naked, there's a good chance this is not a nightmare either.

Which leaves the very scary possibility this is real.

Holy. fucking. shit!

Dean obviously has two choices: 

  1. Call Cas back and try to make some sense of this situation
  2. Pretend this never happened until Cas brings it up himself.



He likes neither of the two. 

Ignoring every logical part of his brain screaming ' _ Retreat _ !' at him, Dean pulls his underwear back on and after some thought a shirt, too, and he strides over to his balcony. The half-wall is intimidating and too close to the edge for Dean's comfort, but Cas did it once and he was surely not more determined than Dean is.

Maybe Cas is fitter than Dean, the logical part of his brain argues, and again Dean ignores it. This is not the time to chicken out, dammit. 

Determined, he hoists himself up and over and lands safe on the other side. Awesome! That wasn't even that hard. Clearly, he's Batman.

Cas throws the sliding door open just as Dean's about to knock. 

"Dean," Cas says, a little faint. "You—if this is about that app, I swear I had no idea."

"Can I come in so we can talk? It's kind of freezing out here." Dean gestures at himself and what little clothes he's wearing, and Castiel follows the motion with his eyes. His gaze lingers on Dean's boxers for a split second, but then he steps to the side.

The room is practically a copy of Dean's room next door. Kind of makes you wonder how Dean didn't notice earlier. He  _ was _ preoccupied with other stuff back then, he guesses.

He spins around to face Cas, who fidgets with the curtains, twisting them through his fingers. He's only in his underwear, clearly not having the time to get dressed either. Dean doesn't mind. The view is nice.

"I'm sorry," Cas says, pointedly looking at everything except Dean. He looks nervous but not shy. "If what happened makes you uncomfortable we can forget about it. Neither of us has to mention it again."

"Uncomfortable?" Dean asks, incredulous. "Cas, we had some mind blowing sex. I don't regret it. Unless  _ you  _ do."

"No. I don't." Castiel flushes pink but the confession seems to lift a weight from his shoulders. He drops the curtain and meets Dean's gaze, though he still keeps his distance. 

"So, I have a confession to make." Dean licks his lips nervously. Here goes nothing. "I like you. Like a _ lot _ . And that's before I found out you're Angel, which was surprising but a big bonus. So I'd totally understand if you're not interested or you think this is too complicated—" he gestures between them, "—but the way I see it, we both have a reason to celebrate, and we're stuck here for the foreseeable future so there's no reason not to take advantage of the situation."

Cas' back pulls straight. He cocks his head to the side, narrowing his eyes with an unreadable expression that makes Dean shift his weight self-consciously. There's no hint to betray Cas' answer.

But then Cas takes a step forward. "It would be irresponsible," Cas says, stalking towards Dean. 

"Because we work together," Dean agrees, heart fluttering right under his throat. 

Castiel purses his lips in thought. "That and also we're supposed to be in quarantine." The corner of his lips twitches, and the distance between them has almost vanished.

"Oh," Dean breathes out once Cas is right in front of him, not quite nose to nose but close enough to make Dean feel a little faint. "Or we can self-isolate together. Problem solved."

"Problem solved indeed," Cas says. Any sign of nervousness is gone. Cas stares at Dean with such intensity that the room feels several degrees warmer all of a sudden. He stares at Dean and his intention is written as clear day across his features.

Still, Dean needs to ask.

He raises a hand slowly to touch Cas' shoulder, slide it up until he has a hold on the back of Cas' neck, thumb pressed over his rapid heartbeat. "Is this okay?"

Castiel grins. "Yes. Now please stop talking."

Dean uses his hold on Castiel to crush their mouths together, lips moving with a feverish need. Dean's hands roam over hard muscles, broad shoulders, pulling Cas closer and closer still, his head spinning with the way Cas licks his way into Dean's mouth. The room is spinning too, as Cas manhandles Dean towards the bed and out of his shirt in one smooth motion. 

Dean lands on the bed with a huff before Cas follows him, crawling onto his lap. Teeth click together momentarily, but Cas also has a hand pressed over Dean's throbbing dick and it's  _ that _ which makes Dean hiss.

Cas breaks away to lick a long line across his palms. "I can't believe this is happening," he says, voice hoarse, as he pulls Dean's underwear down enough to wrap his hand around him and pull firmly.

"Shit, Cas," Dean moans, eyes fluttering closed. His hips strain to buck up, but Cas is still straddling him, knees on either side of Dean's thighs, pinning him to the bed. 

He rubs his thumb around the head of Dean's cock, making Dean's brain turn into jelly. "I can't believe we could have been doing this all along."

Cas mouths along Dean's jaw, sucking and biting a trail of marks all the way down to his collarbone—Dean will have to figure out a way to hide those, but honestly, he doesn't even care at this point. 

Cas breaks away for a moment, lips spit-slick and swollen and so tempting Dean can't stop looking at them. His hand on Dean's dick slows to a stop, and it's that which finally gets Dean's attention.

"Dο you need a hand with that?" Dean gives Cas his best shit-eating grin, before playfully slapping Cas away.

With his hands on Cas' hips, Dean rolls them over, so he's now hovering over him, taking him in in all his ruffled-haired, dark-eyed, gorgeous glory. Cas stares up at him like he's finally meeting god and fuck if that doesn't make Dean's already leaking dick ache for attention.

"Like what you see?" he teases, quickly getting rid of Castiel's underwear. With no barrier left between them, when Dean settles back down on Castiel the friction makes all coherent thought fizzle out.

"I'm sorry for staring," Cas gasps between heated kisses that are quickly turning into panting against each other breathlessly as they roll their hips together. "I'm still trying to convince myself this is real."

"Why, am I that far out of your league?" Dean jokes only a breath away from Cas' lips.

"Yes." 

Dean pulls back startled. "Are you serious?"

Cas tries to grind up, maybe in an effort to make Dean drop the subject, but Dean ignores the temptation. For now. At last, Cas blushes a deep shade of red and huffs. "Yes, I'm serious. You're a very good looking man, Dean."

Dean shakes his head in disbelief. "Have you seen you?"

"I have. I own a mirror," Cas points out, reaching between them to take them both in his hand. He jerks them together with a slow rhythm that makes the pressure in Dean's belly grow tighter. "I own several mirrors, actually." He emphasizes each word with a mind-bending twist of his wrist.

Dean is quickly losing his train of thought. "You're like, ridiculously hot. Devastatingly handsome." The words are pulled out of him in gasps, and Dean is too far gone to feel any shame for his confession. "I've been fantasizing about doing this while I still thought I was sexting with a stranger."

Cas tightens his fist, impossibly blue eyes pinning Dean into place. "Really?"

"Yes, really," Dean says, suddenly frustrated at how slow things are progressing. "A stranger who, I distinctly remember, promised to fuck me through the mattress."

"You want me to—"

"Yes, please," Dean says. Maybe begs a little. Maybe. "And please tell me you have lube and condoms because jumping that stupid wall again will totally ruin the mood."

"In my bag," Cas says simply, and Dean rolls off him to let him retrieve them.

Soon Cas is working Dean open with his fingers, using his mouth to distract him from the initial burn and pain. Not that there's much of it. It had been a while but Dean did a pretty good job at a refresher course last night, and Cas' thick, strong fingers slide in and out of his hole easily. 

He likes the way Cas sucks him, though, like Dean's dick is the most delicious thing he's ever seen, and Cas won't be satisfied until he has Dean swallowed all the way down. 

And he looks so good doing it, too. The guy is better than a porn star. The image of those sinful lips wrapped around Dean will forever be ingrained in Dean's brain as the best head he's ever received. 

Too soon, but also not soon enough— Dean's brain is past the point of any coherent thought— Cas pushes inside, splitting him wide, filling Dean until he's buried to his balls.

Cas gives a couple of experimental shallow thrusts, and Dean groans.

"Shit, fuck, Cas. Faster, you gotta—you gotta—"

"Yeah, I got you," Cas promises against Dean's neck and he picks up the pace, pulling back only to snap his hips forward, fucking into Dean again and again like his life depends on it.

Dean grabs onto Cas' bicep, eyes fluttering closed. "Yeah, yeah, baby. Just like that. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

Cas gasps and moans, and he rails Dean into the headrest, going hard enough to make the bed rattle and shake and hit the wall every time he fucks forward, driving into Dean fast and deep. 

"Dean, I'm gonna—I'm gonna—I can't—"

"Give it to me," Dean gasps, scratching a hand down Cas' back. He keeps his knees wide, his legs wrapped around Cas' middle to make the angle better, make the head of Cas cock hit that sweet spot inside him that makes electricity run up his spine. 

Cas moans, his rhythm faltering, and Dean can tell he's close from the way he trembles and his muscles strain.

"Come on, shoot it in me," Dean urges, sneaking a hand in the tight, hot space between them for his dick. "I wanna feel you coming inside me so badly. You promised you'd fill me up so good, I'd feel it leaking out of my hole for hours later. Come on, Cas, do it. Do it for me, baby. Let me see you come."

Cas snaps his hips forward helplessly, moaning something that could be Dean's name, and his cock twitches desperately inside Dean, who tightens in response and milks the orgasm out of Castiel. Cas curses through it, breathing hitching, and buries his face in the side of Dean's neck. Dean jerks himself faster, following him over the edge only a few seconds later.

Sweaty and spent, they collapse in a panting heap on the bed.

Cas is the first to roll away, before looking down to check at the condom, pulling it taut against his softening dick to make his semen gather at the tip. "I broke my promise. You won't be leaking."

"It's fine," Dean says, trying to catch his breath. "It's the thought that counts."

"That was the best way to celebrate the closing of a deal," Cas says as they lie side to side, sheets rumpled at their feet. "We should do it again."

"You should come to my brother's wedding with me." Dean's still high on endorphins. There's no other explanation for what he just let slip 

Cas snaps his head around, mouth falling open. "I— what?”

Okay, Dean can still save this. 

He shrugs. "It's the perfect reason to celebrate again."

Cas frowns at him, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead. "Or you could ask me on a date like a normal person."

Dean exhales, his chest caving in with relief and happiness. He meets Cas' gaze with a smile. "Will you go out with me?"

A gorgeous grin splits Cas face in response. "I thought you'd never ask."

THE END

_post-credits scene_

"You're still coming to the wedding with me, though, aren't you?"

"We're in the middle of a pandemic and the best man is stuck in a foreign country. I'm pretty sure your brother's wedding will be postponed, Dean."

"Hey, that only gives us time to coordinate our outfits."

"Coordinate our outfits?"

"Don't roll your eyes at me. We gotta look good for the pictures. _And_ we have to figure out the most efficient way to have a quickie in a closet while wearing said matching suits, so we gotta start practising."

"Are you seriously suggesting we sneak out of your brother's wedding for a quickie?"

"I was thinking we could sneak out of the party. And don't laugh, Cas. This is on my bucket list!"

"Aha. You sound pretty confident we'll still be together by then."

"You sound pretty confident we're together right now, Cas."

"I, uh—I didn't—"

"Shut up and kiss me."

THE END  
(for realsies)  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Happy Exchange Day (week) KatG! I tried to add as many of the tropes you liked as I could, so I hope you enjoy this silly little story <3
> 
> For those of you that made it to the end, thank you for reading! Don't forget to let me know what part was your favourite. I love reading everyone's thoughts and answering comments. To see what else I'm working on you can find me on [Tumblr](https://kitmistry.tumblr.com/), or you can subscribe to me as an author [here on ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitmistry/pseuds/Kitmistry) to get a notification when I post something.
> 
> And if anyone wants to join us on Discord, please [ click here! ](https://discord.gg/profoundbond)


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